Ramblings of a Single Mom

[Gypsy]

I just had to open my fat mouth...

...didn't I?

I'm trying hard to remain composed and calm, but what I really want to do is sit down and just plain old cry. Yes, I do feel sorry for myself a bit. And yes, I'm a bit angry.

I found out this morning what A found out yesterday evening at 5:30 PM. I'm not getting the job I was supposed to start this coming Monday. Why? Because they'd never intended to let her fill that empty slot, to begin with. So why was she wasting all that time doing interviews when they were already so swamped and shorthanded? Why, for the practice!! (She's already had five years of practice at interviewing her own employees.)

The higher-ups in the company hired a floater to go from one store to another, giving managers a day off. They get a day off, not relief from the workload that's too high for two people. That's all they ever intended to do. They just didn't tell A that, not until after the deed was done.

I don't understand this at all. I don't even know whether to believe it or not. All I know is, I'm not getting the job with 40 hour weeks, hourly pay, health and dental insurance. I'm not getting the job that would mean I could buy a real car, get a real tax return, or move to a real house. I'm not getting the financial security I need, I crave, I'd been banking on.

I feel like The Gang set me up just to yank the rug out from under me. And part of me really, really hates the Gang right now.

Tomorrow I talk to my chiropractor, and try to figure out when I will be released to go back to work driving a cab. I pray it's soon, because I'm going under. The Ex hasn't sent this month's child support in, yet. By the time it gets here, NEXT month's bills will be due and I'll owe late charges. If the doc says it'll be another month, I'll have absolutely no choice but to go to the goddamned welfare office and sign up for TANF.

I cried when I hung up the phone with A this morning. And then I dialed the Ex's cell phone. When he said hello, I began the conversation with "I just called to tell you that I'm never telling you anything, ever again. I told you I wanted to keep a certain piece of news to myself so as not to jinx it, and then yesterday, I told you anyway. This morning I get the news that I don't get the job. So, you need to stay away from me, because I'm having a really shitty day."

And by shitty day, what I really meant was "I hate you, you fucking prick. I hate you for making me come back to this shitty town with its shitty schools and shitty job market. I hate you for making me give up a good job and a nest egg in the bank. If you'd have taken my fucking hand up when we had the chance, I wouldn't be in this situation...AGAIN. I fucking hate you. Die, you bastard. Die."

I'm going to go throw myself on my bed and cry into my pillows, now. I'll figure out my new gameplan tomorrow. Tonight, I just don't have the heart for it.

 

[Gypsy]

Sugar-Snit, I've been giving that little piece of advice a lot of thought ever since I read your journal entry, I really have. What gives me joy? Hmmm. It's pretty darned sad when it's been so long since you really gave it any thought that you don't know what it is that gives you joy.

I played frisbee with the kids for a little while last evening. That gave me joy. My son learned some basics of playing rummy, and he begged me to play with him last night. While we were playing, I helped him out (so I wouldn't whup him so bad) and gave him some tips. He's already a better player, ready to do battle against the other, older kids. He was so happy last night as we played, so happy that I spent time with him, just the two of us. He was really happy that he knew more about the game, and had some practice. Mostly he was just happy to feel like he was on more equal footing with someone. He kissed my cheek about ten times and gleefully proclaimed his thanks after each kiss. Everything about that two hour scenario gave me joy.

He's slightly less angry all the time, lately, and that gives me joy. He smiles a lot more, and that gives me joy. He doesn't feel like I'm picking on him when I ask him to do something, and that gives me joy. He appreciates a crockpot full of ham and beans, and cornbread muffins, and that gives me joy. He excuses himself from the living room, runs to the hallway, and points his butt away from us to fart, and that gives me a LOT of joy.

Last night I battled insomnia. I was worn out and my back was hurting, but I could not sleep. I ended up doing something I've not done for months on end...I got out my Douglas Spotted Eagle cd, my fuzzy poster and markers, and sat up in bed coloring until past two in the morning. While coloring in the tiny spaces with hot pink, tropical purple, magenta, electric lime, royal blue, lemon yellow and deep bright green, I realized yet again how much vivid colors give me joy. While coloring, if I don't fight it, I fall into this quiet and unthinking place. It's the only time I can remember ever being able to just not think. The worry part of my brain shuts off for a little while, and I find soothing silence. My eyes are happy, my hands are busy, and my heart is content. This is joy.

I think of my friend D and how we reconnected after such a long angry silence. To know that that friendship has found new life, to know that that friendship from my past was always REAL, gives me immeasurable joy.

And yet, today, I got upset, I felt terribly down and depressed, and I could not shake it. Dale stopped by to visit, and I just didn't feel like chatting. Randy called to check on me, tried to cheer me up, but I just couldn't respond. And then I stopped by the grocery store to pick up some Hershey's syrup for my vanilla ice cream. Sometimes, ice cream is just the thing to cheer me up when I'm down, ya know? But while I was there, I ran into someone who got me into a conversation that had me both angry and on the verge of tears at the same time. I was doing quite well at controlling my emotions and my reactions, I really was.

Right up until they accidentally spilled the beans about The Ex getting a goddamned tattoo on his chest two weeks ago.

A tattoo that cost I have no idea how much, but had to have taken at least part of the child support money he said he didn't have to send to me, because people just weren't picking up their orders at the cleaners. He spent my child support - my ONLY means of support right now - on a fucking TATTOO? I saw red and wanted to bawl all at the same time. I wanted to find him and break his nose.

I calmed myself before I got home, I bit it back and locked it down. No way was I going home like a charging bull and allowing my anger to spill onto my kids. As I walked through the door, it hit me. I knew, I just KNEW that that asshole had tattooed my name on his chest. I knew.

I asked Alyssa about it, and found that she had one answer for me. "I know nothing, I'm not allowed to tell." She got really upset at being put on the spot like that. I touched her hand and told her I was sorry, I didn't mean to do that to her, it hadn't occurred to me it was supposed to be a secret. I just figured it was one of those things that wasn't really any of my business so no one had mentioned it. But no, it was a big secret, and the kids were sworn never to tell me. "Just tell me one thing, sissy. Please tell me he didn't put my name on his chest. Please tell me he didn't." First silence, then the explosion. "I hate it when you and dad do this, you both know I can't lie! And if you already know, why are you questioning me?? It's not fair, Mom!"

Oh, god. He really did. We've been divorced nearly five years...why is he doing this shit? WITH MY CHILD SUPPORT??

Outwardly I am calm as can be, but I'm positively seething inside. He deserves my anger, but it is impossible for me to give him the verbal smacking he deserves without him believing my daughter broke her promise of silence - which she did not. I refuse to allow her to take an ass-chewing over this, so if a perfect idea pops into my head for fixing his little red wagon, I imagine I'll take it. Unless I've somehow forgiven him by then.

I can't even concentrate on reading this manuscript, Dunsany. I read the same five paragraphs twice, and for the life of me cannot tell you what they said. Reading the manuscript is in my list of joys, and it's just plain impossible at the moment. I can't keep my focus, I can't concentrate.

I am sick to death of having every rug pulled out from under me. I'm sick of getting my hopes up about good jobs, going to school, anything at all....and then falling flat on my face when I trip over those high hopes. I'm so very tired of feeling like a huge loser. I'm exhausted from hanging in there and waiting for things to work out in my favor. I'm completely fed up with all the unfairness I find myself dealing with on a constant basis. I want to declare war against every person to negatively affect my life in the past four years. I want to rip The Ex's heart right out of his chest and feed it to him.

He knows. He knows that $200 a month is the only thing I have for income right now. He knows my bills are due and I'm just barely getting by, without it I'm sunk. He keeps telling me he's going to help me, and all the while he's spending my child support money on bullshit like beer and a fucking tattoo.

Mr. Silent had it right all along. Assholes get away with murder, and nice guys get eaten alive. The only way I'm ever going to get ahead is by lying, cheating, stealing, and using people. Where, pray tell, is the joy in any of that?

Some days, I really need a soundproof room with very soft walls. Today is one of them.

I want permission to throw things and yell out loud. I want permission to slash the Ex's tires. I want a break from the bullshit. I want to yell DO OVER! and start my life over from the age of ten. I want my daddy. I want to put my head in his lap and cry, I want him to rescue me from my life. If only. Dead men don't wear superhero capes, last I checked. And here's the cosmic joke I didn't get until way, way too late: Neither do the live ones.

I'm going to bed now, to cry silent tears in the dark. When I wake up, it's going to be a brand new day, and today's anger will have melted...and I'm going to let it. Keep moving, keep going, keep my eye on the ball, keep on keepin' on, keep my sanity, keep on truckin', keep off the grass, keep on the lighted path.

Keep the faith.

 

[Gypsy]

It's safe to look at me again.

Yesterday afternoon, my kids were bickering...yet again. One of those snippy things that escalates into a yelling war, the kind that I just can't stand. Just as I open my mouth to tell them to STOP IT, Alyssa yells at her brother "You are SO igga-nernt!!"

Blink blink. Did you just say igga-nernt?

Yeah, he's not even worthy of me saying it correctly!

I couldn't help it, I giggled. Then Harley giggled. This fueled her even more.

Stop it, Mom! I'm trying to be mad!



It took ten minutes for the laughter to subside.



And yes, I feel better now. I've not forgiven the Ex or anything, but I'm over being full blown pissed off. I've converted the anger into fuel to keep me going, so it's just kind of background white noise, now.

And now you all know the secret of my survival: Convert anger into energy, and run on it. And how does one perform this miracle? Simple. You laugh, anyway. You smile when you don't feel like it, you laugh when you're still pissed off. Laughter is the key ingredient to fuel conversion.

It helps a lot if you have two crazy kids.

 

[Gypsy]

It's been a rough weekend

Ever felt like you were coming down with the flu, but never had quite all of the symptoms? That's how I've been feeling. Every muscle and bone has hurt. My head pounds with fifty spikes going straight through my brain if I dare to look down. Nausea. Oh yay!

No fever, vomiting, diahrreah. Just pain, and lots of it. I feel weak and tired and I just plain hurt all over. Big fun.

I have appointments this morning. I go to physical therapy first, then the chiropractor. The last time I did these in this order, it didn't work out so well. In fact, it sucked, I came home in more pain than when I left. However, that's when we were doing the ultrasound first, massage second. Now we're doing massage first, then ultrasound. It was discovered quite by accident that this was better for me. When she does the massage and stretches those muscles, it's a "hurt so good" kind of thing. The ultrasound uses sound waves to penetrate deep into the muscles, and is used for pain control. It helps me to relax after having knuckles dug into those sore and extremely tense muscles. Anyway, I hope I'm relaxed enough today when I get to the chiropractor that he's able to adjust me better than he was on Friday. Friday sucked. I was really tense, so instead of trying a tad of light massage to loosen me up, he left me on the table with cold packs on my back for just over half an hour. That was supposed to reduce the swelling in the tissue, make it easier to adjust me. Funny thing, though, being cold just makes me more tense. Go figure.

I've been having the weirdest damned dreams, lately. Last night's was a doozy. There was this huge, huge house with like forty stories. And a guy lived/worked there, taking care of a group of special people. I got the feeling it was kids, but I don't know for sure. I know that in the dream I knew the guy, but now I can't remember who he was. And I needed to use the bathroom, but the bathroom was on the fifth or sixth floor, and we (I was with a small group of people "visiting") weren't allowed above the first floor. I wanted to explore the house, it was very cool...but wasn't allowed. So when I became desperate to use the bathroom, I went looking for it. I finally found it at the very top of the house, but before I could finish my business, there was a pounding on the door and an admonishment for being there. I felt guilty for breaking the rules (no visitors above the first floor) and yet righteously indignant (I HAD to use the bathroom - couldn't he give me five lousy minutes without beating on the danged door?). When I came out, I was whisked downstairs and ushered out of the house.

I distinctly remember people flying around in this dream. And the staircases and rooms of this house were different, unusual, and quite cool. I kept wanting to look for secret passages. See? Weirdness. I wonder what a dream like that means.


In other news, Alyssa got her toes smashed in a steel door on Saturday afternoon. They're cut and severely bruised. Poor kid can hardly walk, I feel sorry for her. She begged her dad to take her to the ER on Saturday, and he wouldn't do it, said they couldn't do anything for her. "Dad, they can give me something for this pain...PLEASE!" but he wouldn't do it. OTC Tylenol and Ibuprofen aren't easing her pain in the least. So, I guess when I get done with my appointments for today, I'll ask Deb if I can borrow her van to take the kid to the clinic.

Harley is being annoying with his constant noise making and/or banging or tapping or something on whatever is near him. Drives me nuts, his sister too. Yet when he speaks, typically he's a lot more pleasant than he was two months ago. This huge, NORMAL break from school has helped a lot. I dread the start of the school year. I'm still trying to figure out how to put him in a different school, away from his previous teachers and principal. Not sure how I'll manage that, really, but I haven't given up on the idea yet.

I'm both looking forward to today's appointments (and hoping I'll feel better afterward) and wishing I didn't have to go so I could go back to sleep. And yet, if I had the opportunity to go back to sleep, I wouldn't be able to. It's perverse, really. I keep having crazy dreams, waking myself up talking in my sleep all the time, then falling back to sleep. When I get up, I feel as though I've had a two hour nap instead of a full night's rest. I'm betting it's the meds.

I had Deb's van borrowed last week, while they were out of town. Friday, I drove past the car lot where the car I want to buy is for sale. It's still there. If it's still there when I go back to work, I'm still going to try to buy it, I think.

Time to get ready to go.

 

[Gypsy]

Ya know, it's funny....every friday I start hurting, and all weekend I can barely move without crying out in pain. I felt good Thursday, so I did five minutes of gentle stretches. Apparently, it seriously aggravated a lot of muscles in my back. I also sweated out a fever, had terrible cramping and nausea, and couldn't eat. I think I freaked my dog out, shuffling through the house crying and talking at random to God. I feel better now, happy happy good. Thank you Doc, by the way, for calling in a new script on the T-#3.


Oh yeah, Thursday. I felt good, was mostly running on adrenaline and (sorta) excitement. I bought a car. No more having to ask for rides or feel guilty! No more being stuck in when I need to get out. Yay!

It's a tiny four door Eagle Summit. It's the same year as the Dynasty, a '91, and has 3,000 more miles on it than the Dynasty did. There is no tilt, no cruise. No armrest - because it's a five-speed stick. No radio - just a hole where there oughta be one. BUT! It gets 40 miles to the gallon, and I bought a stereo for it with a cd player. I WILL upgrade something, dammit.

So, I have a smaller car, and I have to shift seven thousand times to get around town. I'm hoping the gas savings will pay for the radio over the span of a year. There is nowhere to put my CB. There's a slot for another radio, but the CB is just a hair too big. What a depressing thought. I really miss being on the CB. It's way too handy a contraption to give it up, I'll have to figure something out.

I cleaned off my desk today. Oy vey!! I should do that more often, it was almost scary.

Around sevenish I got the urge to go out driving, go see someone... something, anything. I took a shower, ended up having myself a soak in hot water afterward, and by the time I got out, it was too late to go callin' on folks. Ah well. Just 'cause it's cheap on gas doesn't mean I need to burn it just for the sake of burning it. At least, not until I get an income again.

Yes, it's the last day of the month and the child support is still not in the computer in Jeff City. The Ex swears he mailed it on the 13th. Yeah yeah...tell it to the electric company. They sent me this lovely shut off notice. It goes nicely with the one from the gas and phone companies. Bastard.

On a positive note, the Ex finally got off my medicaid case so I can open the TANF program. Right now, all that really means is that I'll get an extra $92 a month, and it'll show up on time. It's not enough to catch up. I need an extra $350 to do that completely...although July's $200 would help a lot. Not that I'll ever get it.

Okay okay...I'll try to stop obsessing now.

So, with any luck at all, they'll release me in another two weeks to go back to driving a cab. Yay. Looking forward to some semblance of income, dreading the job. Ah well. Dem's da berries. I just gotta keep the faith that something better will work out. It will. Somehow.

On that note, I think I'll take the last of today's ridiculous amount of meds and go to bed. Oh, did I mention I'm taking more? Yeah...ear infection equals Zithromax plus stop skipping the Zyrtec D plus Flonase plus something or other for nausea. On top of Flexeril and T3 and vitamins. Oh, went off the Vioxx for awhile, taking some kind of all natural stuff for muscle inflammation instead. We'll see.

Anyway, time to swallow one last pill and try to sleep. Haven't been doing that very well of late, sure would be nice to get a full night's rest and wake up feeling good. Here's hoping.

 

[Gypsy]

This is gonna be a quickie...

I'm alive, and starting to kick just a tad higher.
I have a car. Bleh.
Back to school shopping coming soon.
I pray to be going back to work somewhere next week.
Child support is screwed up, I'm screwed as a result.
I have a date tonight. Yes, a date. A date? Wow. Shhh, don't jinx it.
I have a coffee/breakfast date with my ex father in law in the morning. No, not that kind of date. Ewww, don't be disgusting.

My date should be here any minute, so I'm not elaborating on anything right now. With any luck, I'll have time to sit down and write a real post tomorrow, before the kids get home. In the meantime, wish me luck that tonight doesn't become one of those date horror stories.

 

[Gypsy]

Let's see, where was I...

..oh yes, I remember. Right about Here:

I'm alive, and starting to kick just a tad higher. My pain levels are receding. I don't have to take muscle relaxers and T3 every single day, now, and for that I'm grateful. Physical therapy hurts bad enough to bring tears to my eyes every damned time, but I keep going. It'll eventually not hurt, right? Right?

I have a car. Bleh. It's not the car's fault I don't really like it. It's mine. I'm spoiled and I'm pissed about my losses, period. This car is so damned small compared to my Dynasty, it has no armrest, and I have to shift gears. Now, if I was getting awesome majorly great mileage, I'd call it a tradeoff, but it gets the same mileage as my Dynasty did. Sigh...I'll learn to like it. Really, I will.


Back to school shopping coming soon. Mom is coming on Tuesday to spend the night, and Wednesday us girls go shopping for Alyssa in...I don't know, some other town. Somewhere. We'll decide Tuesday night, likely. Maybe Jonesboro. Anyway, hoping for a nice visit, no bickering, and no fucking stealing, please.


I pray to be going back to work somewhere next week. One day this coming week I plan to go to OEO and have Judy stick me in some meaningless craptastic job. Need an income, and for some reason, I dread going back to the cab more and more each day.


Child support is screwed up, I'm screwed as a result. They lost July's child support. I thought the Ex didn't send it, but wrong, he did. They deposited his check, and promptly put the money somewhere other than in my "account". Since I finally got TANF started, this means the state will snag any child support payments. Even though they aren't supposed to start doing that until August (it IS August now), they're going to take my July payment. I had no income at all the month of July, and now they're going to take what was supposed to have been mine weeks ago. Even though the only reason I didn't already get it was because THEY screwed up. I'm gonna be permanently behind on my bills, and I'm highly pissed off about it. I need three fucking jobs to dig out of this scary hole. Yeesh.


The date: He's the son of my mom's high school best friend, whom she has stayed in touch with. I met him before, when we were kids, around age ten or so. I had an instant crush on him, but since we only spent a few hours at their house and (my sister and I) never returned, the crush was mostly forgotten for the past twenty five years - except when Mom would talk about her friend. I found out a few months ago that he recently confessed to his mother that he'd crushed on me, too. Wow.

It wasn't anything formal, just a few games of pool, a walk around the block and some conversation, but it was enjoyable. On our walk, we passed a few shops with look-pretties in the window. One contained dragons. Lots of them. Turns out we have a mutual love for dragons and things medieval. Oh, and Mt. Dew.

I met him in St. Louis all those years ago, and that's where he was living when our moms cooked up the idea that he and I should meet again. *rolls eyes* Christ Mom, stop trying to set me up with long distance people. And then he moved 200 miles closer, to within a half hour's drive. Guess the joke's on me, huh?

Boy oh boy has he changed a lot. Big. Guy. Tall, but not skinny. Nice build, actually. And I like the way his eyes smile. Minou and Bambooki, you'd both love this one, I think. The way he talks about camping and river float trips, etc, I couldn't help but think of you both last night. He's definitely something else.

He'd gotten a ride into (my) town, and I took him to Corning at the end of the night. He's helping to completely remodel someone's kitchen there, on his days off. On the way, we listened to a mix CD I made, with jams I happen to really enjoy. I flipped through them, letting him hear just enough to know what each song was, and gauged his reaction. He knew the words to every one, and proclaimed I have good taste in music. We actually listened to Pillar of Davidson and Silent Lucidity all the way through, and talked through some of the others.

He told me he'd had a good time, and asked if I wanted to get together next weekend and do something. I said sure, I'd like that. He asked if I liked to watch races, and as a matter of fact, yes I do - I just haven't gone in forever and ever. My last chance to watch races was with Cindy, Scott, and my favorite pilot in the whole world, Thomas. That was... four years ago? Anyway, we made a date for this weekend, and we're Speedway bound.

Our mothers are ecstatic. It's hilarious.


I had coffee and donuts with the Ex's dad this morning, at the Ex's house. Hank was here on a brief visit from Florida, and found out he'd hurt my feelings last time he was here. He'd agreed to come over for coffee before he and his wife left to go home, but they never showed. The Ex told me on the phone that his dad was there, and I didn't respond. "You there?" Uhm, yes. "It got quiet, I thought you hung up." Nope. Just didn't have anything to say. "I thought you'd want to see Dad." He knows where I am if he wants to see me.

Two hours later, they were all on my doorstep, inviting me to the races with them. I naturally declined, as I had plans. So we agreed to coffee this morning.

I found it ironic, and funny. I was on the phone with Mom when my date beeped in. I switch over, tell him to hang on, switch back over to mom to tell her I have to go. As I'm doing that, I see the Ex, my kids, Hank, and the Ex's grandkids walking up to my door. I head to the bedroom to finish the call (be there in about an hour or so) in private. Then I get invited to the races, and decline. Hours later, I get invited to the races again, and accept.

Maybe ya had to be there.

I have to say, last night was probably one of the nicest dates I've ever had. He did hug me when I answered the door and again when he got out of the car at the end of the night, (we did know each other previously, after all) but other than that he never tried to touch me. There were no annoying innuendos, no accidental cop-a-feels. Just two people talking, getting to know each other. Hmm. Maybe he was afraid I'd tell his mommy on him, but I have a feeling that that isn't the case at all. He seems like a genuinely decent guy. Interesting, good sense of humor, lives life as spontaneously as I wish I could, good looking, well mannered.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
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[Gypsy]

*Yawn*

Good morning...or at least, it will be as soon as this coffee kicks in. I'm still trying to adjust to the flavor of Folgers (bought for two reasons: it was on sale, and I liked the nifty reusable container), I've always bought Maxwell House until now. Two weeks, and the coffee still tastes funny to me. This is why I seldom get coffee in a restaurant or at a truck stop. I'm not saying their coffee is bad, just that it tastes weird to me because I'm used to what I'm used to. Another example of how I don't really deal well with little changes. And of how picky I am.

Alyssa had a dental appointment yesterday morning, so off to Corning we went. And of course, my sister lives there, so afterward we trotted off to her place. Sis was in bed, sick as a dog. Literally. She'd drunk four little bottles of margarita the evening before, after work, before going home. On a very empty stomach. (Note: She wasn't driving, her carpool buddy was. It wasn't even her idea to go anywhere but home, but she still should have called. And she should have used her brain and either eaten first or not drank alcohol on an empty stomach. She's normally smarter than that.) She was tore up from the floor up when she came home three hours late - without having called home. Naturally, Brother was highly pissed. Especially when she immediately passed out in bed without speaking a word to him....and then threw up IN the bed. Then she scooched over to his side to sleep, leaving him nowhere to lie down. I'd have been pissed, too.

I love sissy, and I always support her. I gave her a pill for nausea, brought her water, a cool wet washcloth for her face and neck. And told her she got what she deserved for being so stupid, though I said it kindly and with a smile. Then I left her to sleep, spoke with Brother for about an hour or so (mostly listened to him vent about various topics - he needed it), then loaded up all five kids and took them to the pool.

I haven't gone swimming in... well, a long time. Self conscious about my figure (I USED to be so hot), I've not wanted to be in public in a bathing suit, for one thing. Also, I've either been working and tired or too broke to pay our way in to the pool. The nearby lake is, in my opinion, too dirty to swim in. Ewww. However, Corning pool costs a quarter to get in, for two hours. Then they have a fifteen minute break where everyone gets out, and then pays a quarter to get back in for the second two hour session. Quarters I can afford...but only if I'm driving all the way over there for some other reason.

I'd run off and forgotten the sunblock - shame on me! Harley got burned, but not horribly so, no blisters. I don't think, anyway, I'll have to check him this morning. I got red in the face and on my shoulders and chest. It doesn't hurt, though, I'm glad for that. I stopped at Wally World last night on the way home and bought some aloe vera gel for Harley. He didn't wake up crying last night, so apparently it gave him the relief he needed.

I have physical therapy and chiropractor appointments this morning. I need to get my sorry lazy butt in the shower. I was so worn out last night, I fell asleep sitting up on the couch for twenty minutes before I got up and went to bed, showering was just out of the question. I'd been sitting up because I've shut the air conditioner off the past few days, and the house was kind of stuffy. I'd turned on the "fan only" function on the a/c unit and opened the front and back doors to let some fresh cool air in. I'd wanted to give the house a little time to cool off before shutting everything down for the night. I guess I was lucky I woke up at all. I gave myself a real workout at the pool, doing laps and treading water. And by treading water, I mean first treading using only my legs, then switching to only my arms, then repeating twice until I was tired enough to need a break. It's good exercise, especially when your body hasn't been able to handle much of late. Not being able to do more than gentle stretches, I'm surprised I still have a waistline, but I do. It's just a bit softer than usual, which bugs me.

What I want to know is, how does a woman get rid of that baby belly pouch? Do I have to starve myself for a few weeks, or what? *rolls eyes*

Dunsany, how long before I get pictures, my friend? I've been a good girl and not bugged you, but I am SO ready for some Hawaiian eye candy. Oh, and Harley has been playing some of the games you sent. I don't allow the kids to play for hours on end, and they have to earn time on the PS by doing household chores without bickering, complaining, or being nagged. That means that some days, they don't get to touch it at all. And I'm okay with that.

Thomas, I'm almost healed enough to break out the DDR mat. Looking forward to that, I really am. Especially now that I have a piece of carpet in my living room. My hope is that I get the chance to play it at least twenty minutes every day, if not more - and that I manage to get the same results from playing it that you did. Of course, I doubt that happens, since you played much more than what I'll be able to. Still, a little bit of hopping around will be more exercise than not at all, yes? It'll probably take me years to get anywhere near your skill level, your place as King of DDR is safe, I'm sure.

Do ya'll know how hard it is to find a copy of Tetris or The Next Tetris for sale? Only one video store in town even has it for rent. Good grief!

The coffee must be kicking in, I'm starting to feel a bit antsy. Not jumpy, just starting to feel some energy, and ready to get moving around. Plus, I have to pee. *grin*

I have to be at P.T. in one hour, I'd better get my arse moving.

 

[Gypsy]

Today feels like a good day. The weather is absolutely gorgeous, it's impossible not to feel alive, invigorated, energetic on a day like this. Especially since I've got the house to myself for the first time in a week.


My mom came last Tuesday night, and left Sunday at five pm. We had a great time shopping with the kids in Cape, but it wore us out - especially her. The week would have been a lot busier - we had stuff sorta planned - but Mom forgot her important heart and blood pressure meds at home. She was feeling fairly crappy after a day or two, and ended up bailing on a lot of plans that had been important to her.

I love Mom and enjoyed her visit for the most part, (she was really good this trip) but I'm glad she went home. For as far back as I can remember, she's only been able to sleep on the couch with the television on, and I CAN'T sleep with the noise box running. Not when I'm going to bed, anyway. If I'm thoroughly exhausted and fall asleep on the couch I can do it, but the tv bleeds over into my sleep and therefore my dreams. Not as restful as it could be. With Mom here, it ran practically 24 hours a day, and I stayed tired because I was staying up too late talking then not resting when I did go to bed. Plus, she's a chronic channel surfer who typically watches two to three programs at a time, flipping back and forth between them. It drives me batshit, always has. (And somehow, though my daughter hasn't been raised by my mother, she developed this same habit all on her own. We argue about it frequently.) Friday night, I took the remote away from Mom, giving her no choice but to watch A Bug's Life. She enjoyed it. I enjoyed having control of my own remote.

I went to the races Saturday night with Mom's best friend's son, and had an absolute total blast. He got tickled at me, because I'd apparently forgotten how much I really do enjoy watching races - especially dirt track races. Love it. It's soooo easy to mentally picture myself behind the wheel, flying around the track so fast the turns are taken sideways. I kept getting goosebumps and kind of shivering a bit, but it wasn't from being cold - if that makes sense. I wanted to be behind the wheel of the lead car, because I know the rush of adrenaline I get from watching is nothing compared to actually driving it. Anyway, this all had him rather amused. He's built race cars, worked the pit, and loves doing it. He later said to his Mom on the phone "Yeah, had a great time, it makes me miss racing, makes me miss it bad." While I was in the bathroom, he told my Mom "You're right, she really likes the races" with a grin. He seemed pleased we have a love of races and fast driving in common.

Like I said before, this is looking like the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I love being able to go hang out and do stuff that doesn't entail drinking and being occasionally groped by drunk strangers. It's just a shame that it's too late in the year to plan a float trip down Current River. It wouldn't be too late, except we're having this really long run of unseasonably cool weather. Maybe we'll still get a float trip in this year, maybe not. It's something to hopefully look forward to doing at some point, anyway.

I'm happy to announce that he made a mounting bracket for my cb. In my tiny car, there is nowhere "usual" to put the darned radio, because it's about an eighth of an inch too wide and too tall to fit in the slot in my dash. The ceiling won't support it, and I don't want to put it on top of the dash - that's inviting a thief to break windows and take what's yours. The only other option left is to mount in on an angle on the side of the hump, on the passenger side. Apparently, that takes a special bracket that the local shop doesn't carry. They said I'd have to go to Mo-Ark Communications, and I could expect to pay in the neighborhood of $70 for it. Gulp. That isn't an option for me. I was telling G about it, and he said "Good grief, don't pay that - I can make you one at work." Blink blink. Really? "Yeah, really. I'm a welder, remember?" COOL!

So, the bracket is made, but he ran out of time and had to set it aside before he got the screwholes drilled. He plans to not only give it to me this coming weekend, but to also install it. He also plans to install my other front speaker, wire them both and hook them up, pull the stereo out and reset it for four speakers instead of just the back two...and correct a mistake made by Billy when it was originally installed. The hot wire is apparently not where it's supposed to be, because when I shut the car off, I lose all memory. My equalizer settings, the radio presets and the time all disappear, every time. I tried setting them all of twice, then gave up. Very annoying, very very. So, hopefully next weekend I'll be all hooked up in more ways than one. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, the back left speaker is only suffering from an unconnected wire. It's beyond irritating that it isn't working as of Thursday morning. I have $200 invested in the stereo and speakers, I'm only listening to one speaker, it's cover rattles, and I don't have the luxury of being able to use the radio presets or even the clock, much less the surround sound I should be enjoying by now. *rolls eyes*

Did I ever mention that I'm kinda spoiled to certain things? I did? Okay.

Minou, you have no idea how happy I am for you right now. Not to mention proud, proud, proud. And Sugar-Snit, I've been getting a lot of good vibes from your direction of late. I want to thank you both for all the warm fuzzies I've gotten recently.

Alyssa got up at 5:30 this morning, with plans to leave home at around six - but she didn't get to leave until 7:30. She's on a six hour round trip with the mother of her current boyfriend, as it's time to pick him up after his two week visit with his father. Tonight she and I will go to her 8th grade orientation. Harley got up at six this morning, dressed, ate, walked the dog and then went to work with his father. I don't understand why he'd rather spend the entire day in a hot hot hot dry cleaners than go to two doctor's appointments with me and have the rest of the day at home in comfort, but there you have it. And that's how I got the day partly to myself. Don't think I'm not enjoying this, either. Not only do I have a bit of time alone to clean and write a bit, but the kids will be ready to go to bed early tonight. They don't know it yet, but I plan to wake them up at the same time tomorrow. Why? Because school starts on Wednesday, and by coincidence, the alarms were set last night for the same time they'll have to rise for school. Talk about killing two birds with one stone, and it wasn't even my doing. Gotta love it.

Tomorrow we'll go get the remaining items on their supply lists and stuff, and then go visit someone or something. Perhaps it'd be a good day to go visit D. I'd enjoy that, and the four kids are certainly better acquainted since the camping trip. Who knows, though. Maybe, if it's warm enough (in August?!) we'll drive to Corning and go swimming in the sun one last time for the summer. Maybe I can sweet talk their dad into coughing up cash for the water park. Nah, likely not. We'll figure something out.

I'd better grab a bite to hush my rumbly tummy before my doc appointments begin. I hope everyone is feeling as content as I am right now. And I hope it lasts all day...and longer.

 

[Gypsy]

Well, fark!

We didn't go do anything fun today, unless you count shopping as fun. It wasn't even for clothes, it was for school supplies. We didn't have a bad day, though, just really tiring.

It was raining and dreary and dark when the alarms went off, and not a single one of us could manage to drag our lazy tired sleepy asses out of bed. Harley was up first at around 8:45. I followed at 9:00 (after begging him to make coffee), and then I made Alyssa get up. We sat around the living room together watching Charmed and two eps of ER before we got busy. By then, I'd started washing the few morning dishes between commercials, loaded the washing machine, and started assigning chores. We didn't leave the house until noon thirty, but the kitchen was clean, the living room was tidy and vacuumed, I was showered, and the dog was walked and fed. Yeehaw, off we go.

I was all sweet and cool and fantabulous when I offered to drive Alyssa to school today to drop off her sax so she doesn't have to carry it on the bus tomorrow morning. Don't believe me? Just ask her. She was tickled to death to be able to drop it off in the band room this afternoon and have it already be there tomorrow. I'm such a smart think-ahead Mom.

We returned Alyssa's poor choice of a way-too-sheer outfit to Goody's, and she found two pairs of gym shorts. She ended up with $7 back, which she gave me to apply toward makeup at Walmart.

By this time we're tired, thirsty, and it's hot in the car. So naturally we headed two miles in the opposite direction of Walmart to buy 32 oz. fountain sodas for fifty cents apiece. Mmmmm...refreshing. On to Wally World!

And there we spent two hours and $109 on a shitload of paper, pens, erasers, pencils, notebooks, folders, glue, post-its, highlighters, calculators, crayons, colored pencils, and kleenex. Yeah, I know...I went to that back to school thingy so I wouldn't have to buy them - but they always give you not enough of one thing, two of something that's not on the list at all, and nothing at all of others. It's just the way it tends to work out. So, I not only had to fill in the gaps for the first day of school, but I also went ahead and picked up the replacements. Folders wear out, paper runs out, and pencils break. I always end up being hit up for more of something when I'm flat assed broke and have no time to go shopping at all. You know how it is - the kid tells you "Mom, I've been out of paper for over a week, and borrowing for the teacher. She says I HAVE to get some this week!" Jeez, kid. Thanks for telling me when you were running low.

My hope is that this year's strategy of overstocking will reassure them that it's quite okay to tell me they need more of something as soon as they need it. You know. Save us all the embarrassment of borrowing from teacher for two weeks. I absolutely DARE them to tell me they couldn't do their homework because they didn't have any paper. There are five unopened packages of 150 count wide ruled notebook paper in reserve as we speak. Three packages of pencils. Extra pens galore. FOUR bottles of glue - I'd forgotten how much was left from last year, dontcha know. Two boxes of crayons, two boxes of colored pencils, four spiral notebooks, six folders, one pack of Post-its and I have at least six highlighters in my cup on my desk. Oh, and let's not forget the 45 pencil-top erasers in the school bucket. I even have an extra ruler for chrissakes.

Now my kids can feel as secure about having plenty of school supplies as I do when there are 48 rolls of toilet paper in the house. And yes, I really do do that. I absolutely freak out if I run out of toilet paper. Or shampoo and conditioner.

After Walmart, we still had to kit K-mart to look for the perfect trapper keeper that was built to last. But since we were starving and worn out, we splurged mightily and had Taco Bell for supper. It's a good thing, too, because when we got to K-mart I suddenly started remembering things I should've gotten at Walmart but had forgotten. Shampoo, toothpaste, alcohol, razors, monthly supplies for Alyssa...you name it, I remembered it. One. Item. At. A. Time. We walked in for two items, and spent one hour and $69 by the time we finally walked out. Yikes.

At least we stay clean and fresh in this house.

And now the money that I'd been saving for back to school is gone, completely gone. But you know what? Neither myself nor my kids shall have to worry about it until next year. Now all I have to do is brace myself for Christmas, and find three jobs fast.

July's child support is still lost in the netherworld of Family Support Division's computers. Tomorrow I'm calling and bitching at a human or three. I said I was going to do that before, but it's been slipping my mind because I've been so busy.

OH. And the tests that Harley had done regarding learning disabilities? It seems that all that has been lost somewhere, too. I suppose I'll have to actually drive over there tomorrow and present them with an in-person face to go with my phone voice. School starts in the morning, and those results were supposed to have been given to me almost two weeks ago. If I get a runaround again tomorrow, I'll drive my mad hatter ass forty miles down the road and start looking for a child psychologist over there to do the tests over. Because, frankly, if I don't get a straight answer and some test results in my hot little hand tomorrow, I'll have to assume that this doctor has friends in my son's school, and is trying to cover their ass. Yes, I'm being paranoid. Because this sort of thing happens all the time, especially in this town. I saw it too often during my custody battle not to believe it. They're all in cahoots. I trust no one, especially in this town. Most especially if their job is supposed to be to help us.

I both dread and look forward to tomorrow. It's been a good summer in a lot of ways. No summer school. And while it sucked hard in most (financial, self-esteem) ways, I wasn't working - which meant I got to spend a lot of time with my children. And I admit it - I loved that part. They drove me absolutely crazy some days with their bickering and PMS bitchiness, but there were far more good days with them than bad. Sometimes we just sat around watching tv and arguing over what to watch, cleaned house or talked on the phone, but we were still hanging out together. They rarely had to go to a sitter, even on their dad's time. We weren't stressing over what time I'd get home. Harley had a chance to let go of some of his school related anger. In fact, for the past two weeks, he's almost been my old Harley again. I ask him to do something, he does it. Only two out of ten times would he argue by saying he didn't want to do it or ask WHY he had to do it at all. He's started doing things just to be sweet, again. And snuggling with me for a few minutes just before bedtime, sitting in my huge rocker recliner watching tv and playing tickle monster during the commercials. He's started asking me to tuck him in at night again - which is really just an excuse to talk my ear off and tickle some more, and cuddle before falling asleep. I've really missed that.

I dread the stress of Harley's homework, but I remain hopeful that things will be better this year. After all, he's repeating the same grade, and things should come easier to him this time around. If it's easier, he'll be less inclined to ignore it, avoid it, hate it. I hope.

They're both excited about getting to wear brand new clothes and shoes in the morning. New backpacks, new everything. I'm relieved I was able to give them that blessing, because going to school without new clothes or shoes is something I don't ever want them to have to do. I still remember how cruel kids can be, believe me.

I got a few new things, too. Mostly stuff my Mom bought me - eight new blouses. Four of them are different, cute, cool. The other four are identical simple tops - almost tshirts - but of different colors. I also have two new backpack/purses (I need to remember to write about the little one, there's a good story in it) and a new pillow. Well, we all got the squooshie pillows from Goody's, and they're cool as hell. Well worth what I paid for them, definitely. Even today I got myself something at K-Mart - two new scrunchies, and a weird looking hair tool that helps you do this little procedure to make it look like you've tied your hair up in a ponytail using your own hair to wrap it. I tried it out earlier, and it works perfectly. My hair looks just like the picture on the box. Now I just have to figure out how the hell I'm going to get it down without pulling myself baldheaded.

I'm just rattling on about a whole lotta nothing, but it feels good to clear my mind of my day. Suddenly I remember why I used to write every single night. I feel content, relaxed, and sleepy. Which is exactly what I need to feel at 11 pm on the night before the first day of school. Six ayemm comes early.

 

[Gypsy]

The kids are gone to their dad's, and my house is too quiet. It's weird, because normally when the house is this empty, I'm busy cleaning or reading or writing or watching tv or dancing or napping or just sitting and staring into space, thinking. Sometimes, I just sit on my bed, talking to whomever or whatever might be listening. Frequently, when the kids leave on Thursday, I try to cry myself out, if that's what I'm needing. It's extremely weird to need to cry, want to cry, and try to let yourself go to cry it out...and not be able to. More than weird, it's painfully uncomfortable. It's like, if I hold it in too long, if I have to be too strong for too many days and nights, it gets stuck. Emotional/spirtual constipation. What a lovely thought.

Tonight, the house is too quiet. I don't need to cry, I'm not angry at anyone, I've got the munchies but want nothing to eat. I could immerse myself in a cleaning project, but honestly, I just don't feel like it at all. The house isn't totalled, but no house is so perfectly clean that there's absolutely nothing to do, ever. I just don't feel like tackling any kind of cleaning projects right now. I don't feel like dealing with the pain in my neck and shoulders later, either.

I need to have a low-pain day tomorrow. It's important.

I don't know why I feel so much peace of mind and hope right now. I mean, it's not a bad thing to feel this way, it just doesn't make a lot of sense. I have myself in a financial situation that absolutely terrifies me, but every time I think about it, I make myself say "I'm not going to worry about it. Something will work out." I don't know how or why that's mostly working right now, when it never really has before, but apparently it is. I don't know what's changed. I don't feel numb or cold or indifferent, I'm not in shut-down mode. Maybe I'm simply refusing to deal with it, anymore. Maybe I'm just refusing to sit and worry about what's to come and how I'll pay for it.

I made it through Back-To-School. There's nothing left for Christmas, the car insurance will come due in December, Alyssa's birthday is in October, Harley's is in January, they'll both need coats and new shoes in the next couple of months. But all I can think is "I pulled it off. They have all the clothes and shoes and backpacks and paper and folders and pens they need for right now. We're okay."

Maybe God turned my Worry dial down a little bit? Because, it's just not like me to not already be planning and worrying and freaking out over what I'll need in three months and don't have the resources to pay for.

I know that my son is better after a summer of us not having to rush around so much. He has a teacher he thinks is cool. His test results should be in shortly, and I'm hoping that when I get them, I'll have some answers on how to better help him. Something I can show his teacher, so his teacher can better help him, too. I have hope that my baby boy gets a good break at school this year, and realizes at some point that the world is not out to attack him, overwhelm him, confuse him, then punish him for not understanding. I have hope that my son will wake one day to find he doesn't hate school, after all.

I have hope that I'll get a job that I don't hate. That I won't have to return to the cab, that I'll make enough to get us out of the hole we're in... that I'll have dental insurance so I can put braces on my kids' teeth.

I have hope that one day, my life will stop being such a series of worries, obstacles. That I'll learn to relax, have more fun, be more spontaneous, and truly enjoy life. I've come to realize just how much time I spend worrying about failing, beating myself up for failing, feeling sorry for myself because I didn't accomplish something I wanted to do. It's no wonder I fail so often. It's practically all I ever think about. It's what I came to expect early on in life, and life has rarely let me down in that particular aspect.

I try so hard to be a good mother to my kids, I really do. But I also cannot ever manage to forget that I failed them from the start, before they were ever born. I failed to choose a good husband, a good father for them. I failed them when I divorced, broke up their home, and sentenced them to the life they now must lead in two separate households, always feeling pulled from both directions at once. I wasn't fair to myself, and I wasn't fair to them. So how can I expect a fair shake from anyone else?

On this one thing, I still eat guilt with a spoon.

I remember something Helen told me once, when she was my manager at a convenience store, back before Alyssa was even conceived. I'd made a terrible mistake at work. Someone had filled their tank at the diesel pump, and I'd never noticed that they hadn't paid. They were out there for over 45 minutes, and each time I looked out, they seemed to be still pumping or checking fluids or some such thing. And then someone else pulled up, and the two men were talking for a long time. I thought "Well, he'll be in when he finishes flapping his gums" and quit worrying about it, because I was really busy. Since the diesel pump was at my back, I never saw when he drove away...and I forgot about him. Until the next day, that is, when my boss called me with questions about over $100 in missing fuel.

When the mess was figured out enough that we at least knew the scenario that led to the missing fuel, I was mortified. Embarrassed. And very contrite. I couldn't stop apologizing to Helen for my huge and costly mistake, and I guess it finally got on her nerves. She looked at me sternly, and firmly (but kindly) told me "I'm going to allow you to beat yourself up for about twenty more seconds, and I'm going to allow you to apologize one more time to get it out of your system. And then I never, ever want to hear about it again. It's over, done with. It was a mistake. I know you didn't deliberately do anything wrong, it didn't happen out of laziness. I know you weren't in cahoots with anyone to steal. I knew that before you ever said a word. And I know that you're sorry, and that you'll be more careful in the future. So, go on, say it one more time. Tell me one more time how sorry you are, and then let it go. Stop beating yourself up. It's in the past."

Yet another life lesson I should have learned long ago, but couldn't. Beating myself up for past mistakes is something I've spent entirely too much time, energy, and pain on. Why do I do it? I could give a million reasons, and yet none at all. Mentally kicking my own ass has been about as productive as beating my head against a brick wall, and has caused at least as much pain. Yet I've never failed to do it. I've never failed to punish myself for failing.

I don't know if I have learned my lesson enough to stop doing it, but I guess I'll find out. I've learned to let go of things in the past three years that I never thought I could, so it must be possible. And maybe, just maybe, if I can stop beating myself up over my mistakes and failures, I'll have enough time and energy in my busy life to just enjoy life. I want to be laid back, content, loving. I'm tired of always being stressed and worried and on edge. I'm tired of worrying about every single detail of every single thing in my life. It's become more than overwhelming, and I'm starting to feel damned rebellious about it.

I'm not EVEN going to be able to stop preparing and planning ahead. I'll still sit on tax return money for school clothes and insurance and christmas, and I know it. I'll still plan and save and try to spend wisely. I'll still be Ms. Responsibility - too responsible to take a personal day at work just to kick around with friends, because I have to kids to support. I know this as sure as I know my own name. But maybe I'll learn to be more open to spontaneous fun. Maybe I'll learn to relax and just let things go, so that my body stops hurting with it all.

I have no idea how I'm going to accomplish this. Maybe I'll just think of worry and failure as though they're suckass jobs I've been doing for free, and just Quit. Walk off the job. Tell the head honcho of the worry department in my brain to fuck off.

Can a person even do that?

 

[Gypsy]

Had this incredibly strange and vivid dream just before waking up at 5:45 this morning. I was living in this old apartment building (not THIS old building, just an old building) that looked like it was made completely of concrete. Like it was made of sidewalk concrete. I was hanging out with some neighbors - oddly enough, they were Randy, David, and G.

Ever set off those 4th of July fireworks you buy at the stands or at Boomland? The ones that shoot the colored balls out of a 'cannon' thing, where they explode? Well, there was something like that going on, only it was huge. Huge. Huge, as in, when the balls got into the air, they didn't exactly explode, they began to spin...and formed into planets. That's right, planets. They grew and grew, and began to float away and take up their place out in space somewhere. The air was weird and sparkly and full of debris. I was breathing fine until I actually SAW the air, and then I started holding my breath and ran back inside. I didn't stay long, though. I figured if I was going to die from the air, being inside wasn't going to save me - I might as well go out and enjoy the show until I dropped dead.

I stood outside my apartment and watched planets form. An entire solar system formed in the space of an hour, and I saw it all. It was both the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and terrifying as hell. I kept waiting to die. I wondered if I'd just blink out of existence without even realizing it, or what. Maybe I did die. Maybe my dream is really reality, and right now I think I'm real but I'm really only a ghost recalling my death.

Nah.

It was a freaky dream, but the colors were so vivid, the scene so magical, I was enraptured. It was fantastic eye candy, the likes of which made me think yet again "I wish I could paint this, so I could look at it forever".

I can still hear the foom noise those balls made as they were jettisoned into space from my neighbors yard. Or at least, that's where it seemed like it was coming from. I remember thinking, after I finally realized what was happening to those weird balls, that life was never going to be the same again. It was all different. I felt like I was free from the rules I once lived by. Like... like suddenly I was living in a sci-fi novel, where people float and fly, where you taste color and just breathing is nearly intoxicating. I don't know how to explain it.

I kept waiting for the air to turn to acid or something, thinking there was no way I could possibly be privileged enough to witness such an event, then live such a wonderful, free spirited, happy life as I instinctively knew was possible after the change. I thought that all that debris in the air would choke me to death, and the moment I had the thought, the debris began to thin. About five minutes after I noticed all that debris floating in the air, it had disappeared entirely, leaving lavender skies in its place. I thought "Wow. Did I do that? No way... I wonder how high the lavender goes? Wish I could go up and find out." The moment I thought that, I started to fly, intending to go right out into space and see those planets more closely. And then the alarm went off.

I would have given every penny that is mine to go back to sleep and play in that world.


I'll never find any of this in a dreamer's dictionary.

 

[Gypsy]

Party down with a scrub brush!

I had hoped to go out with G last night, as there was no way I could stand to stay still in this house. That was not to be, though, as he was tired. He'd napped from 5 pm until 8 pm, had just woke up, and was tired. Just wanted to stay home and be lazy.

Well, shit.

I thought about doing housework, but quickly discarded the idea. I was simply in no mood for drudgery. Besides, I was all dressed up with no place to go, both literally and figuratively speaking. The thought of pinning my gorgeous (good hair day) tresses up, removing my slacks, sweater and boots in order to don shorts and a tee for getting all sweaty and dusty and funky was NOT my idea of Friday night fun.

I made up my mind to bail on the house as fast as possible, and figure out what I wanted to do after I drove away. As I was walking out the door, my phone rang. Unavailable, the caller ID said. Well crap, that could be several people in my family who use pre-paid phone cards (as I do). It could be G, calling back to say he'd changed his mind, let's go do something. It could be an emergency of some sort. It could be a telemarketer.

Don't you just love the whole Gambling Telephone game? Wasn't caller ID supposed to end this guessing game?

It was Mom, wanting to chat. I gave her a brief description of my mood and my non-plans. She wanted me to come see her. Uhmmm...no. Three hours of driving on unfamiliar roads, where I made wrong turns and got lost when I had a frelling GUIDE the last time? Going through the mountains in the dark, by myself, in a basically as yet long-trip-untested car? Fuhgeddaboudit.

I got off the phone with Mom, looked at the clock, and realized that my determination to go have fun had deflated a bit. I wavered for all of ten seconds, then grabbed my keys and bolted. I drove, mentally ticking off the possibilities. I could go get a drink, shoot some pool, go to Deb's....

Frell. I came up with good reasons (mostly "I don't want to, not in the mood) not to do anything I could come up with. So, what did Gypsy end up doing all night on a Friday night while dressed up? She drove around in her little blue car, talking on the CB. Yeah, that's right. Never got out of the car, never spoke to a single person in...well, person.

Do I know how to party, or what?

I did give in to an urge for a Blizzard from DQ. I love the Tropical, but have them mix it with the Hawaaiin (why does that look wrong?), 'cause it's mo'bettah that way. "What size?" Hmmm. I'm alone, it's just a little splurge...what the hell, I'll get a large! So I tell her this, and she tells me the price. I pause in thought as I'm pulling around to the window, thinking "Did I hear her wrong? Are they making TWO blizzards?" I wait patiently behind the car at the window, then roll forward. I query as to my order (they don't call it back to you at the speaker, I hate that), and discover, no, the order is right, the price I heard was right. HOLY SHIT. I just spent $4.86 on ICE CREAM! I nearly choked. And then realized that, no matter how full I might get eating this HUGE (did the larges get larger??) cup of Blizzard, I had to eat every single bite. Five dollars for ice cream. Christ, I could have bought a gallon of Edy's Grand for the freezer at home, for that price.

I was ashamed of m'self. Still am. I made sure to hide the evidence from the kids, too.

So, today I started cleaning house at 7 this morning, and didn't stop until around three, when I got the shakes and realized I needed to eat. I've cleaned windows and walls, vaccumed, swept and mopped the whole house, scrubbed the drainboard, cleaned the front of the air conditioner (ewwww, that thing was nasty dusty!), wiped down the fans, pulled the stove and fridge out and scrubbed behind them, scrubbed the burners on the stove, scrubbed the side of the stove that's always against the wall (Ugh, don't even ask...), dusted the living room, AND washed, dried, and put away four loads of laundry. Including sorting socks - I hate that job.

I'm tired. I'm stinky and dirty. And I officially (as of five minutes ago) have a date picking me up in approximately an hour. I think I'd better go scrub Me.

I find it funny and ironic (as I always do) that I dread the cleaning chores, put them off, avoid them like the plague...and then when I break down and do them, I always, always, always feel better afterward. I'm tired, but I feel better physically. And I feel better emotionally, too. In fact, the emotional/spirtual cleansing I get when I get down and dirty with the housework always outweighs everything else.

I never fail to be a walking contradiction in terms.

 

[Gypsy]

Can I trust my own perception?

Last Saturday, G and I went to see Collateral. We then headed to Steak n Shake for a late supper, which ended up being a lot of fun. I ordered a Turkey Club sandwich. And cracked up at the cook, waitress, and manager all three when they forgot to put the turkey on it. I couldn't help it, it was just absolutely hilarious to me. I mean, if they'd forgotten the bacon, it would've been amusing but forgettable. But to forget the turkey on a turkey sandwich is just a riot, and while I wasn't screaming with laughter, I definitely had people on the other side of the dining room looking and listening to find out what tickled my funny bone. G didn't seem embarrassed by my reaction. On the contrary, he appeared pleasantly surprised by it, and laughed with me.

While we ate, stories were exchanged, laughter shared. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common, whether experience or taste. Not that we're carbon copies, good lord no. But we mesh pretty well, enjoy the time we spend together. That's a pretty nice change from... well, from spending time with a person doing something I prefer not to do, feeling uncomfortable or bored. Or thinking that if they don't stop jumping on that last nerve it's gonna snap. He hasn't managed to get on my nerves yet, and that's pretty amazing for me, especially nowadays. (More on that another time.)

He likes Chinese food and I don't. He has qualities/habits/traits that are very similar to Mr. Silent, Randy, and the Ex - or any combination thereof. He grew up in St. Louis, yet he's very much a country boy in many ways. He loves the rebel flag, yet stated emphatically "Heritage, not Hate." when I bluntly asked him yesterday "I've noticed you have a thing for the rebel flag. Are you prejudiced?" (Yes, I really did that.)

If there are any red flags about him so far, I guess I'd have to say I've noticed he's an impulse buyer. I don't know if he's impulse buying with money left after paying bills and setting aside savings, or if he's blowing entire paychecks. I can ask personal questions about whether he hates, but it seems a bit soon to go poking my nose into his personal finances.

There are also things about him that are just unknown to me. Like, he lets me be in control of certain things that I really need to be in control of. Speed, for instance. Specifically, the speed that this friendship building thing cruises at. I’m not being rushed or pressed, not being pressured to do anything at all. Without having to be slapped or similarly rebuffed, he automatically follows the turtle pace I’ve set. I like this about him. Like it a lot. On the other hand, when I say "I've narrowed it down to four choices. I wouldn't mind seeing any one of these movies. Do any of these appeal?" and he reads the list, nods, mentions he's been wanting to see a couple of the movies I've picked, and then I say "Which one would you like to see?" and he then says "I don't care, you pick" I get frustrated. I already picked! If you pick from my pick, we're gonna agree on the movie, no compromise required. Just pick one.

Of course, I don't actually say that, I just kind of look at him and wait. Probably with raised eyebrows. And then he picks. And off we go. And NO, I don’t want to be in control of everything, don’t want to have to make every single decision.

This exact incident only happened once, but my point is that I don’t want him bending over backwards to please me. Not if it means he’s watching movies he knows will bore him, going places or doing things that don’t interest him. Once in a while, that sort of thing is acceptable (and that goes both ways), but not every time. And not in the get-to-know stage. The point is to learn about each other, not pretend we like things we don’t.

I wondered if he was trying to let me make all decisions and choices because it's inherent to his nature (I don’t want a puppet any more than I want to be one), because I indicate by my normal behavior that I need to make all decisions (independence coming back to bite me on the ass?), or because he's being cautious not to displease. So I asked my Mom if he's normally a leader or a follower. I hear from the Mom grapevine that he's normally a leader, but he feels he's made so many bad choices, that leading has gotten him nothing but trouble and heartache, that's he's decided to try following a little more, for awhile. Well, okay. I can relate to that thinking a bit. But good grief, pick a movie.

So Friday night when we picked a movie at the video store, we walked all the way around and read all the new release titles. I noted there were about four that we both indicated we'd like to see, but neither had yet. When we got to the last Z, I headed back to A. "Okay, it's narrowed down to four" and rattled off a couple, then hit a mental block on the names of the other two. He filled in number three, but neither of us could remember what the fourth one was. (I know, should have picked them up as we went, but didn't.) So I said "Ok, of these, which would you like most to see?" And neato presto, he answered "The Butterfly Effect." Way cool. I was pleased with his choice, it being my first choice, too.

It was awesome, by the way. We both enjoyed it, though it freaked me out many times. And then we got into our jammies, and went to bed. HE DID NOT SLEEP IN MY BED, he slept in my son’s room, I slept in mine. No kiss goodnight. The original plans with some friends of mine would have had us out late, possibly drinking. I’d told him that if I drank, I wouldn’t drive - which meant taking a cab home. Which meant I wouldn’t be driving him home. So, he’d brought along a change of clothes and toothbrush, just in case. When plans didn’t work out as originally intended, we decided to just stay in with a movie, get up early and do stuff.

We got up, had coffee, got dressed. I drove him to his appointment with Mr. Hair Guru himself, Ken. They got on famously, to the point Ken informed me loudly from ten feet away I should hang on to him, he was a keeper. (Insert blush here - how embarrassing!) We then scooted down the road to that shop with the cool dragon table. Spent a pleasurable half hour browsing, then headed back to my house for lunch. Ate pot pies while it stormed, and smiled at our luck when the rain broke just as we were heading out again. Headed to the radio station to see a friend of his (that Ken had just informed him would be there at 3), where G ended up on the air for about half an hour.

After the radio station, we stopped at Auto Zone to buy the little thingies (that's a technical term) needed to hold my speaker panel on my car door in place, a fuse (the CB was broken for 24 hours 'cause I blew a fuse...how I do not know), and some oil. Now my car has proper oil levels again, the door doesn't fall apart when I open it, my back speakers are working again, the CB is working again. Color me happy. Thanks, G.

Then we decided to head back to his town for the demolition derby. My first ever, but I didn't tell him that. It was fun, although I imagine if the storm had waited until tomorrow and the pit wasn't so muddy, it would've been better. As we were leaving the fairgrounds, I told him "That was fun. The only other derby I've ever seen was on Happy Days." He stared at me openmouthed. "You're KIDDING!". Nope. And that was a mighty long time ago. "Yes, it was...I remember that episode. Wow." Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

So I took him home, and his cousin (I can't even describe how odd and funny and cool and interesting that guy is) read poems aloud from Shel Silverstein's book of poetry. Well, more than one book, but never mind. It was fun and relaxed. I got invited to spend the night and go to church in the morning, but I refused. One, I like my own bed. Two, I don't mind wearing jeans to church, but the top I was wearing wasn't suitable. It's a tad too big, and shifts around a little, causing my bra to peek out a bit here and there. Plus, I won't wear yesterday's undies and shirt to church. I didn't have a toothbrush with me, nor my own pillow. Perhaps another time.

And somewhere around 12:30 I headed home. Before I left, I got a very nice hug from G. As I drove away, I realized I was still waiting for the warning bells to go off, but they weren't. Are they broken, is he a figment of my imagination, or is this for real?

It was a great day. I got out, did stuff, saw people, had things fixed on my car, enjoyed great conversation, wit, and humor. I cooked him steak and butter noodles Friday night, and we stayed in to watch a movie. But Saturday, it was almost like a "date day" segment out of a romantic comedy. I didn't know days like this actually happened to real people.

So far, he seems very much to be exactly what I’ve been asking for (praying for, actually). Which worries me. The phrase "Too good to be true" comes to mind. I wonder if I’ll ever know whether I’m being really smart to be wary and watchful, careful with my heart, or if I’m being paranoid as hell. Maybe time will tell.

It's painfully difficult to trust others when you can't even trust your own instincts.

Oldlady. I could really use one of your great posts, right about now.

 

[Gypsy]

Counting blessings has never been so easy, or so sweet.

My son. My wonderful, sweet, blue-eyed, dimpled cherub. How my heart overflows with the joy of you.


He's excited to read. Come Wednesday, school will have been in session two weeks, and he's already devoured three books. He already has the next one picked out, and can hardly wait to get to it. Best of all, he's not deliberately reading below his level.

He gets up for school on time, gets dressed, eats, walks the dog, brushes his teeth, and has nearly an hour left before he has to leave. I then let him watch anything on tv he wants until time to go.

He hasn't gotten in trouble in school. He does his homework as soon as he gets home, puts it neatly away, and goes on to play or watch tv. He finished his spelling homework tonight, beginning to end, in ten minutes flat. Not two hours - ten minutes. His math, which has been known to drag on anywhere from 45 minutes to four hours, took twenty minutes tonight. He actually turns the work in on time, completed, with his name and the date neatly printed on them.

He's telling me about a kid in class who is having serious trouble. There's a policy that most teachers have about spelling list homework. If the assignment is to write them two times each and you don't turn it in completed on time, it goes from two times each to five. If you again don't turn it in on time, it doubles to ten. And so it goes.

This kid in class that's having so much trouble, that's rebellious and angry and backtalking everyone...he has to write all twenty spelling words forty times each tonight. And Harley feels sorry for him. "He already doesn't care, Mom. He hates school, hates the teachers, hates everything about it. Forty times, Mom! He's making it so much harder than it has to be! *shakes head* He should have just done it the first time, when it was only two times - it was so easy!"

That kid that's having so much trouble, that was Harley last year. Many was the time we fought and cried and struggled over his homework. Many's the time I met with teachers. Many's the time he had to write his spelling words ten or twenty times each. Until I put a stop to it all, at the end of the year. I tried it their way, begged for their help, then gave up and became rebellious myself.

I told them they would NOT make him write words more than five times each. Period. And they were NOT to hold him inside at recess, making him do schoolwork. He was to go out and play, unless he was being punished for hitting or some such type thing. Not over homework, not over classwork. If he didn't turn the work in complete, they were to grade what he had and record that grade. Period. If he didn't turn it in at all, it was a zero. Period. No more bullshit. No more punishment, no more. He was in school for nine straight hours a day, no play time. Then came home and still had homework, and worked on that until nine or ten o'clock at night. Then slept awhile, got up, finished the homework he didn't get done the night before, and went back to school.

Is it any wonder he hated everything about it? Is it any wonder he was permanently angry and rebellious? I would have been, too.

But since I had him held back, since I had him tested over the summer, since I told the school to fuck off when they suggested summer school (albeit I said it slightly nicer - I asked them if they were out of their crazy rabid-assed minds), since I politely declined to put him in Boys and Girls Club this year, it's all changed. Since we had a summer full of relaxing, spending time together, hanging out, it's all changed.

My boy is excited about school. The first Sunday night after school started, I called out "BEDTIME!" at 9 pm. Harley stuck his head around the corner, asking "Is tomorrow a school day?" to which I replied "Yes, it is." And he threw his arm up in the air and exclaimed "YESSSS! I get to see (my teacher) tomorrow! He is SOOO cool! Did I tell you the joke he told us last Friday?" My mouth fell open.

And then he proceeded to talk a mile a minute, grinning the whole while, for the next ten minutes. He was excited about his teacher, about going to school.

After he went to bed, I sat there stunned for a long time, replaying the scene in my mind over again. Was that MY son? Why, yes. Yes it was. Twenty minutes later, I realized my mouth was still hanging open.

The next day, he came home from school, yelling at me before he got the door all the way open. "Mom! Can I go play?" I sighed inwardly, thinking the battle was about to begin. "You know you have to do your homework first, son." But he was already opening his backpack and pulling papers out, shoving them into my hands with glee. Grinning so wide he almost had trouble talking, he said "It's already done, wanna see? See? All twenty five math problems, and my spelling words too. I got them done in class."

I actually threw my arm in the air and whooped "HELL YEAH!" then grabbed him in a huge hug, kissed his cheek, and told him how proud I was of him. I couldn't help myself, I really couldn't.

"Soooo....can I go play?" I laughed and said of course he could, just check in every once in awhile. And not to get too far away, because dinner would be ready in an hour, and I was making macaroni and cheese. He tackled me with noisy kisses all over my cheeks. He sure does love that mac n cheese.

All summer, I've worried if I was doing the right thing for him. All summer, I've hoped and prayed that my holding him back a year was the right answer, and wouldn't end up making things worse for him. Kids can be cruel, and the teachers already have their mind made up that he's a problem child. I've worried that he'd hate me for this. But I think I did the right thing.

The last month of last year, I stood up for him at school in a way that made me feel like a hypocrite. I told them he was to be allowed to play at recess, even if he didn't get his work finished. If he attempted to do it at all, then he was not to be chastised for not trying, as they'd been doing all year. They'd been keeping him in, lecturing him harshly, even if he got all but one finished. Harley told me he'd repeatedly asked for help, and been told "You know the answer, we went over this during class." When he said he couldn't remember, they told him "That's not acceptable." But they didn't give him the help he asked for. Nor would they test him like I asked them to. (Incidentally, I have been told by the child psychologist that while he's not exactly saddled with learning disabilities, he tested in the low range on three different areas. If this school screws with my kid this year, even once, I'm suing the motherfuckers.)

I've always told him the teachers were there to teach, to help the kids learn. That's what they were there for. But they weren't teaching him. They were trying to force him into a mold of a perfect little robot. They don't like it when one of their robots fall out of line because they're confused. Rather than help them understand, they punish them. But no more. Not with my son. And Harley knows it.

He knows that I spent every minute hanging out with him that I could, this past summer. He knows that I had him tested not because I thought he was stupid, but because I recognized he was having trouble and needed help. Since I didn't understand his problem, I was having tests done so the grownups WOULD be able to understand where he needed help, and how to help him. It was all about making life better and easier for him. He knows that I've got his back.

He had a whole summer without constant torture of trying to do something he doesn't understand. A whole summer of relief from feeling every minute of every day that he'll never be good enough for anyone, that no matter what he does, it's never enough. Pressure off.

And he's smiling again. Enjoying school, enjoying friends and playtime. He's started doing things for people just to be nice again. He speaks with a pleasant voice, laughs, plays, and jokes. When he's asked to do something, he says "Yes Ma'am" and does it immediately. The anger that was always visible last school year is nearly gone. He acts like Normal Harley.

Normal is such sweet bliss. Every day for nearly two weeks, I've been watching him, my heart full of joy just to see him put away his finished homework before dark. He calls from his friend's house after school, now. "Mom, I'm at (my friend's) house. Can I stay over and play awhile? We'll do our homework here, if it's okay. Can I?" And I tell him that as long as they get the homework out of the way first, he may stay and play. And then I hang up the phone, close my eyes, and smile. And thank God all over again.

I told my Mom last week how wonderful it is to have my son back. She asked what I meant, and I told her that the boy who's been living in my house for the past two years wasn't the son I knew, he was a stranger. I'm finally seeing the old Harley again, and it is a blessing and a joy. I likened it to him being away in another country for the past two and a half years, and finally coming home. I've missed him so much.

Welcome home, Harley.

 

[Gypsy]

Make my coffee super unleaded, please.

Harley and I overslept this morning. Ooooops. His alarm isn't going off the way it should, and I just plain didn't hear mine. I was dreaming too hard. *looks knowingly at Dunsany*

Both the kids are getting new radio/cd alarm clocks for Christmas. And at least two cd's they really, really like. They want 'em, they need 'em, and life will be a bit easier when everyone's alarm goes off when it's supposed to.

He wasn't late for school, but the dog didn't get walked. Well, hopefully after my chiropractor appointment, it won't be so ungodly hot outside as it was two days ago. If so, I'll try to walk her myself. I'll be fine as long as she doesn't lunge at a squirrel or a cat. If I remember not to get lost in thought, to pay attention to everything around me at all times, I can spot the temptations before she does, and be ready. Then, the moment she spies them, I can say "No." in that Voice. She rarely sits right away when you say sit (you have to tell her at least three times, while her butt goes down and right back up), but she obeys most all other commands. If I tell her no to chasing a squirrel, she'll tremble all over and whine, but she won't lunge or give chase. At least, not while she's on a leash. If she's not on the leash, she basically figures "What's she gonna do? Beat me if I chase it? I think not..." She's really got my number, and she knows it. If she's loose and gives chase against orders, she knows she'll be severely scolded, but scoldings don't hurt. She grins through the whole lecture, because she might be a Bad Dog, but that squirrel is up that tree and she is Boss.

I wish I could live on twenty acres, for her. I wish I never had to put her on a leash, and she could chase all the bunnies and squirrels and cats her heart desired. It's so funny to watch her run so hard to get to them, and then when they stop, see her screech to a halt in front of them, wiggling all over, wanting them to run some more. I've watched her hundreds of times, and though many's the time she could have chomped, she never has. She simply loves the chase.

And yet she refuses to chase a ball. Go figure.

Anyway. Tonight I may have to take a sleeping pill so I can try to fall asleep before midnight. Not dozing off until past 1:00 AM is causing problems. I don't want Harley and I to slip into bad morning habits, even for a week. I'm scared we won't make it back into good habits, that laziness will take over and ruin everything. Must. Wake. Up. At. Six.

I'm off to the showers. After the chiropractor, I want to do some job hunting. Since my printer ran out of ink awhile back, and I put refilling the cartridge off for way too long, it's now dried out. Once it dries out like that, refilling it isn't an option anymore. That means $27 plus tax for a new one, which I cannot possibly do right now. So! I need to put my resume on a disk, write a cover letter to go with it, and take it to Job Service. They should let me print it out and make new copies of my resume for mailing. There's a job about 35 miles from here I'd like to apply for. Probably pays min. wage, but I wouldn't hate the work, and maybe I'd eventually get to use it as a foot in a door. Ah hell, never mind. I go through all the motions but nothing ever comes of it. I don't know why I still bother wasting my time, except I'm stubborn as hell and suck at giving up.

After all, ya can't win if you don't play.

 

[Gypsy]

I just love waking up feeling like I have sludge in my body instead of the stuff that's s'posed to be there. Ugh.


Harley and I went to Limb and Brace this morning, to have new impressions made of his feet. Time for new inserts, those feet are starting to hurt again. Afterward, we headed over to DFS to get documention as to my income, my lack of child support, and copies of my doctor's notes. I'll be heading over to Housing shortly to go through the whole rigamarole there over my rent and community service. Yay. *rolls eyes* This afternoon I have my first appointment with the new physical therapy place, which is gonna be a huge pain in the ass. But if they'll put me back on the electrical impulse and help get this pain back under control (it's been almost a week since I've had P.T. and I'm feeling it), I'm definitely ready.

When I took Harley to school after the Limb and Brace appointment (and the stopoff at DFS), the principal was in the office behind the desk. I picked up a pen to sign him in, and noted her expression. "THERE he is!" she said with a smile. "We were just wondering about you."

"We" consisted of herself and the older lady (never can remember her name, but she's a general all around helper, I guess, and super sweet) behind the desk with her. Apparently Older Lady attends the church my son went to last night with (his friend) (really gotta come up with something better than that for that kid), and had just been telling Ms. Arnold about seeing Harley there. Ms. Arnold, bless her, spoke right up, then and there in front of my son, to praise him to me. "He's really been doing extremely well this year, Mom. I've been watching him, and he's just been doing fantastic. We're proud of him. I'M proud of him. And we can all tell, it's going to be this way all year. We couldn't be happier for him." By this time, she'd made her way around the counter that serves as the main office desk, and squeezed Harley's shoulders. The kid was smiling, slightly embarrassed, but happy. It was obvious to anyone there that he was on top of the world.

"I know he's been doing well. I'm really proud of him, too. He got all his homework done last night - both math and spelling - in under half an hour. Plus he studied for his science test, and he's ready for it. He gets up on time every morning, gets everything done, and is ready to walk out the door when he needs to be. He even has time to watch Pokemon before school. And he's been doing great with homework - gets it done every night, puts it away so it doesn't get lost or forgotten at home. No fighting over it at all. I'm so proud of him I could nearly wet myself!" Naturally, everyone cracked up, which was my intent. I hugged Harley, kissed his cheek, and told him I love him. "See you after school, kiddo. Have a great day." His eyes were shining with pride, his dimples clearly defined. "Okay Mom. See you tonight." And he kissed me - right in front of everyone. Then, smiling, turned and headed to class. He was practically skipping.

As I turned to leave, I glimpsed the faces of the principal, Older Lady, and Trish, who'd just walked back into the office. Everyone was beaming at my son. It was a great moment for me. I think it was probably pretty cool for my son, too. *wink*

So here I am, putting off going to Housing. I should have gone straight there, but I wanted to come home and get my watch, and some more coffee. Naturally, I had to check my email, and write down just how damned proud I am of my kid. This morning's lavishing of praise by the principal let me know that he's doing just as great in that building as he is at home, and I couldn't be more tickled. Especially because I now know that they notice that he's not the same 'problem kid' they had last year. That means that they won't be gunning for him, knocking him down from where we've worked so hard to help him get to. In fact, if this morning is any indication, Ms. Arnold is going to make sure that my son knows that they see his hard work, that he's a good kid who's honestly trying. They aren't setting him up to fail, and that matters more than anything else, right now. Just keep last year's teacher away from him.

Harley came home from school one day last week, and told me that he'd seen her. She's supposed to be retired, but apparently she was subbing for someone. When he told me their exchange, it took everything in me not to head down to the school and file a formal complaint. If it happens again, I swear they're gonna have to arrest me for knocking her teeth down her throat.

Mrs. W: Hello Harley, how are you doing?
Harley: I'm good.
Mrs. W: Are you doing your work this year?
Harley: Yes Ma'am.
Mrs. W: Now Harley, tell me the truth. Are you really doing your work?
Harley: Yes Ma'am.
Mrs. W: I just bet.

How DARE she? How dare she try to knock him down with her insinuations and degradation? This took place in front of a classroom full of kids! GRRRR! She had no right to say a word to him. Especially since I found out that a large part of Harley's self-confidence and anger issues last year stemmed from her telling him every single day that she'd hand-picked him for her class, and how very disappointed she was in him, how much he let her down. Why? Because he was having trouble understanding some of his work. But did she HELP him? No. She told him that it was unacceptable to tell her that he didn't 'get it' and needed help.

Okay, subject change. I'm getting really pissed just thinking about it. But I'm here to say, she's had her one allowed "oops" with him. If that woman knocks so much as a tiny dent in my son's self-confidence this year, if she degrades him one more time, if she says one single word to him that isn't praise for how well he's doing this year, she's gonna be eating baby food until her new teeth are made. So help me.

I'd better go accomplish something productive with this burst of adrenaline, before my attitude gets really ugly. Harrumph.

 

[Gypsy]

Sometimes, sacrifice kinda sucks ass.

Busy Busy Busy.


Last weekend, I went to some friends' house for dinner and a movie. The steak was good, and the two movies were good, too. I don't like movies that end with the good guy dying, though. That makes me mad.

Anyway, by the time the second movie was over, I was WAY too sleepy to be driving home. Kinda like drinking and driving, one should never get behind the wheel when their eyes want so badly to be closed. So, I crashed there.

Saturday morning was rather lazy and blah, because I woke up after only 3.5 hours of sleep, and couldn't doze back off no matter how I tried. Much coffee later, I was finally awake enough to pretend I was ready for the day to begin. By then, J was home from work - her boss had let her off early. All of a sudden, plans for camping were being laid, and packing was in high gear. I was asked to join them, and decided "what the hell". So, I came home, grabbed clothes and a shower, and off we went.

It's a long drive to Spring River in Hardy, with many hills and curves. And if you have bad plugs and cracked plug wires...it's a longer drive. My car couldn't pull itself up a hill in 5th gear to save it's life. Sometimes, not even 4th gear. It was frustrating, but we finally made it. I gotta come up with the money for a REAL tuneup on this car. It'll run better, I'll be less bitchy about driving it, and maybe I'll finally find that gas mileage they promised me.

Sunday I came home to get my kids, and J and D begged me to bring them with me and come back. I'd already promised the kids I'd take them to hear the President speak - we had tickets. How often does the President speak in your home town? Both my kids had approached me, asking to go. They thought it was a cool opportunity, a history thing, a memory thing. I had to agree. Regardless of who is holding the office and whether we like him or not, he's still THE President of our country, and he was right here, less than a mile from our home. We could actually hear his voice over the loudspeakers right from our front yard, though the words couldn't quite be made out.

Oh, did I mention that my tickets were useless? Yeah... I was stupid enough to think that if we had tickets, we were guaranteed to get in the gate. Not. I got there at 4:30, the gate had been locked at 4:15 - they were already at capacity. Why did they give out more tickets than they could possibly seat??

So then we (we being myself and my daughter) walked to the edge of the river, and stood on the levee. We couldn't see the President, but we could see part of the crowd, his helicopter, and plenty of cops, security guards, Secret Service Dudes, and whatnot. We were trying to make the best of our anger and disappointment, salvage what we could of the experience. We wanted to at least hear what he had to say.

I had no problem with the nice guards watching us like hawks. I even waved and smiled. I tried my best to make it very obvious that my kid and I just wanted to hear, to see what we could, and were of no threat. And yet, after a full fifteen minutes, they started waving us back, back from the levee. By the time I backed up where they wanted us, I could no longer see the other side of the river. I also could no longer make out all of W's words. I got so pissed! I had fucking tickets, I was supposed to be over THERE. And now, they weren't even giving me this much.

I shot them a bird, then turned and left. I shot a cop and a SS Dude the bird. As I walked away, I thought out loud. "Now. Come and arrest me for flipping you off, you bastards."

So. Unbelievably. Pissed.

Now, the Pres himself was not to blame for my day not going as it should. I'm not angry with him, but with the people who organized the whole shebang. I'm angry with whomever ran the gate and locked it. I'm angry with the Goon Squad for not letting me sit on the riverside and HEAR. And as all those helicopters left the arena, and flew over my house, it was the Goon Squad I shot the bird to. They were flying low, and if they looked down at all, they had to have seen me. At the very least, the pilot did.

And if they didn't, I still felt better.


In other news, I finally got back into swing with my P.T. yesterday. Only having P.T. once a week was definitely a factor in my pain levels recently, and I can honestly say that I was truly happy to see Darrell, my therapist. The man is the bomb. I walked in yesterday with pain level 7, and walked out with a 4. I have the urge to bake for him.

To make up for the holiday closing and him being booked solid on Tuesday, I see him three days in a row this week. I can't begin to describe the relief that gives me. Next week it'll be a bit more spread out, but I should be back where I oughta be, by then.

Did I mention I quit the other P.T. place? I can't remember and I'm too lazy to scroll. But I did. If I didn't describe it, I should. I was one ballsy bitch about it. If there's one thing I learned from my mother, it's don't let the system kick you out before you're better, 'cause you'll pay for it for the rest of your life with neverending pain. I ain't quitting P.T. until I either stop improving or I'm ALL better. I can do stretches at home, but they won't give me one of those lovely electrical stimulation machines, so P.T. must go on.

I have no idea what my plans for the weekend are. Maybe I'll figure it out tonight, as I clean house. Maybe I'll get invited to go camping again. Maybe just movies and dinner again. Maybe a bike rally on Sunday. J and D keep asking me to come to church with them...I might go this week. I dunno.

One thing I do know: I need to scrape up an extra $30 soon. My dog is in desperate need of a bath, and is going to be out of food as of tomorrow. Therefore, after P.T. today, I drive to Dexter, 35 miles away, and work a few hours for the Ex. He won't cough up the fucking child support as he promised, and this is the only way I'm going to get the money I need to make it. Gas money is not provided by TANF - it doesn't even cover all my monthly bills. Smokes, gas, dog food, toilet paper, etc. just isn't there. I have to get it from somewhere, and my neck and back are not ready to handle long hours in a cab again, yet. I have to do something.

It upsets me to no end to go work for the Ex to make the cash I need. It feels wrong on so many levels, I can't even begin to describe it. But, we're going to need laundry detergent, deodorant, toothpaste, toilet paper, and shampoo soon. I have to do whatever I can to make sure we have it. Even if it means biting back my pride and indignation to go earn it from the asshole that SHOULD have given me $200 last month.

My only consolation to all this is the fact that I'm experienced in the dry cleaning business, quality control, etc. The whole time I'm there, I feel completely free to tell him where he falls short of perfection, what he should improve. And while I bag out orders, I kick stuff back to him for re-do's. It's too wrinkled. There's a spot. Why is this fuzzy? Fix it. And on and on.

A girl has to have her silver lining, you know.

 

[Gypsy]

Hope springs eternal.

My P.T. guy has recommended that I use tennis balls. Place one under my neck while lying flat, and scoot a little to roll the ball underneath me. It causes a stretch as the head nods a bit, and place pressure on pressure points. I was skeptical, but I bought the tennis balls. Friday night, I tried out what he suggested.

I'll be damned, it works. It's not a cure-all, but the pain I was in when I started dropped by three levels - in less than sixty seconds. With his practiced touch in therapy and these tennis balls, I've made what feels like oodles of progress in the past two weeks. I think by the end of the month, I won't need physical therapy anymore.

What an ecstatic thought.

I look forward to being free of this pain, look forward to being able to go out and earn a living again. I admit I'll miss being at home with the kids so much, but we are SO broke. For the first time in over five years, I am overdrawn at the bank. I owe late fees to my ISP, to BMG, and the phone company. I owe late fees at two different video rental places. I normally pay those when I return the movies, but was too broke to do it this time. Financially, I'm crashing and burning. It scares the hell out of me. My safety net is gone, and I'm sinking beyond repair.

Other than financial terror, my life is pretty peaceful. Mostly. There's a bit of drama going on that frustrates me to no end, but it'll eventually work itself out. I refuse to give it any more energy and power to harm me than I have to. This too, shall pass. The sooner, the better. As a good and trusted friend said, change hurts, but it's necessary. Or something like that. He's right, and I know it. Either through hard work or life changing events, change will come, and change is often painful, but needed. And in this particular scenario, it's definitely a painful but needed change. I'll feel better when it's over, so I just keep slugging through it.

I could probably detail my weekend, but I'd run out of character space. Let's see... had a flat tire, got it plugged. Went to a radio station an hour away for free live music and big contest giveaways. I didn't win anything, of course, wasn't even entered - but my friends were. They didn't win, either. Did a little shopping, but it was mostly the window kind. I DID find some hard glasses cases for Alyssa, to replace her broken one. Cheap cheap, too. My friend J works in a store where the employees' discount is awesome - they get it at cost. So the nearly $8 set of cases cost me just over $3 with tax. I'm SO pleased. Maybe Alyssa won't destroy her reading glasses, after all.

Sat up all Friday night until around 3 AM just talking to G about life in general, religion, stories from our past. It was fascinating, and quite pleasurable. And extremely cheap entertainment, if I do say so. And in case anyone's wondering - no, we didn't have sex, talking isn't a euphemism.

Meanwhile, my daughter keeps telling me I need to get laid. I think she enjoys shocking me. Someday, eventually, I'll retort "but I just got laid last night!" and shock her worse than she shocks me. That oughta put a stop to her ornery shenanigans. As a matter of fact, I believe it'll scandalize her enough that she'll never want to mention me and sex in the same sentence, ever again. heh

Harley is doing exceptionally well in school. No tardies, no trips to the office, no reprimands of any kind. He's getting straight A's. He's a pleasant and mostly obedient ten year old boy. Words cannot express the joy.

Gotta run. More later.

 

[Gypsy]

Dear Mr. Silent,

I just wanted you to know that I understand, now. I understand what I couldn't fathom before. And for the record, I still thank you. You're still my hero. Now more than ever.

Love always,
Gypsy



Dear Randy,

Step the fuck off already, you're sincerely on my nerves. Thank you.

C.




Dear Larry,

Where are you now? Do you ever wonder what became of me, if I'm okay, if I found peace and happiness? I wonder all those things about you. I hope you did. Me? I'm getting there. One day at a time. Please be well. I still thank you for all you taught me. And thank you for letting me pace, scream, and cry. I also thank those 45 mph winds that let me get away with it.

I still count my blessing every day, even when the day is going to hell in a handbasket. Sometimes I can only conjure a list of two. Most days it's a lot longer. But the best days are when I can see the thread running through it all like a tapestry, just like you said. Well, maybe second best. The best days are when I can actually see a glimmer of light at the edge of the darkness, and I suddenly realize that through it all, I never gave up hope. You're right. Just realizing that fact is a blessing, every single time.

And thank you for needing me, too.

Your friend, always...
C.




Dear Melissa,

I hope you're feeling better. Truly. You know I love you.

*hugs*

C.





Dear Kathy the Insurance Bitch,

Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? You wait until two weeks before my therapy ends, and THEN request I see another doctor? And how DARE you threaten not to pay my physical therapist?

Do you feel good about what you do for a living?

Scathingly,
C.




Dear Mr. Wonderful Physical Therapist Dude,

I love you. My neck loves you. What's your favorite cookie?

Gratefully,
C.




Dear Harley,

Thank you for being the bestest coffee maker in the house, and for taking pity on your non-morning-person Momma. I love you!

Happily,
Mom




Dear Alyssa,

Thank you for making fools of us all at the dinner table last night. I nearly choked to death on spaghetti, thanks to you. You embarrassed me horribly, and believe me, child...your day will come. Oh yes, yes it will. I promise.

Threateningly,
Mom




Dear G,

Thanks for being so much fun to hang out with, and for fixing my flat tire and plug wires. You're incredibly sweet. Especially for not deciding we're all too insane to associate with, after all the horrifying shenanigans at the table...

Your friend,
C.




Dear Mike and Bianca,

Are you still reading my boring old journal? How many people have you given the link to by now? You both really irritate the shit out of me, every time I think of it all. And I think of it all every time I need to talk about the bullshit in my life, and can't. Mike, you had your good points as a boss, but in the end, you needed an industrial sized paintbrush jammed up your ass and twisted sideways.

But you know what? It really doesn't matter, in the end. My life went on, even through the drama and the aftermath. I lost some things I really needed, and some people, too. But if you ever read this thing from the beginning, you already know that I'm quite used to that. And to being shit on, too. So, don't go thinking you're wearing any kind of crown in the Fuck-Me-Over competition, or anything. In fact, you're pretty lower level. I mean, hell. You weren't even someone important to me in my REAL life. You just held my ability to support my kids in your hands, that's all.

Assholes.

Angrily,
TheOneWhoScaresYou




Dear Journal,

Ya know, I really miss you. There has been so much drama lately, so much frustration and worry and fear I needed to write to you about, and I just had to keep it inside and try to hang on. It would have helped so much to be able to write it all down, to bare my soul and confess my sins. What a shame I just can't do that anymore.

I see the good coming, though. I'm nearly through the hard part of this lesson, and I know it. What's sad is, I won't be able to write about every victory, either. Some will be safe, but some won't. And I happen to believe that that is a travesty.

I did so want a timeline to read back on, both the good and the bad. I wanted to be able to see what I recorded as important in my life, scroll through my days and months in mere moments, and gain that wonderful hindsight through the new perspective of a stranger's eyes. It helped so much to do that, before, it really did. It was encouraging to see myself struggling so hard, and then fastforward style get to the part where something good comes of the bad.

I lost too much when I lost you, Journal. That's why I'm still so angry with Mike. Losing you, in many ways, has been the biggest and most unnecessary unfairness of all, these past three years. I still resent it, because I still need you. Still want you.

And yet I know that one day soon, I will close you for good, and reopen you elsewhere. I'll have to start over, and the timeline will be harshly broken. It won't be the same, Journal. I'll write differently. I won't feel free to drip my pain all over the pages, like I did you. It won't be mine, any more than you're mine, now.

You know what, Journal? I think I know what to do. I think that when I get my medical settlement (someday), I'll buy a small safe. I'll print you out, page by page, and bind you. And my new journal will be printed daily, and added to that binder. I'll lock it all up, safe from the eyes of my children or other nosy bones. And then you'll be mine forever and ever, safe and free and unfettered.

And years from now, when the time is right, I'll pore over you, word by word, highlighting your pages. By the time I get around to it, I should have at least three bestsellers amongst your entries, don't you think? I wonder...can I name the pizza places in a novel, if slightly change the names? Hmmm. I'm sure there's a way to handle that.

You shall be my retirement, Journal. You're going to go back to giving me the emotional release I've yearned for. And in the end, I'm going to have a thousand times the security I sought in the job I lost over you. I do so love me good ironic karma.

Goodnight, Journal. Thank you for helping me through the pain, the anger, the bitterness and the hardship all these months. And thank you for reminding me of the joys, the vindication, lessons learned, and peace I've found along the way.

Faithfully,
Gypsy